Chapter 20 - The Last Open Question
There was one question I still had for Nathan.
“Why did you laugh?”
We were in kitchen.
Four years after gala.
He looked confused.
“What?”
“When I told you about invitation.”
“Oh.”
“You never really answered.”
“I knew Aurelia.”
“That’s not enough for the laugh.”
He sighed.
“I had bought the previous owner’s entire marine portfolio six months earlier. You had spent three years complaining I owned ‘too many ridiculous assets.’”
“True.”
“I knew if I told you the gala was on one of them, you would refuse out of principle.”
“Probably.”
“So I thought it was funny you got invited independently.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“No secret plan?”
“No.”
“No elaborate test?”
“No.”
“You were not trying to expose Colin through me?”
His face hardened.
“Absolutely not.”
I believed.
Evidence supported.
The most irritating mystery had boring answer.
My husband was amused.
That was all.
I threw dish towel at him.
“You nearly ruined marriage with a laugh.”
“You pushed me through two years couples therapy because of a laugh.”
“Worth it.”
He caught towel.
Then:
“Why did you go?”
“What?”
“You didn’t know inviter. You don’t like galas.”
I thought.
“Curiosity.”
“Dangerous.”
“Apparently.”
Then:
“And maybe because you told me to wear sapphires.”
He smiled.
“So romance worked.”
“No.”
“Partial credit.”
“Zero.”
He kissed me.
That night I opened safe.
Took black card.
I had kept four years.
Not because sentimental.
Because I was not ready to decide.
Now I was.
Nathan watched.
“What?”
“Compass Rose card.”
“Retired.”
“I know.”
“What are you doing?”
I put it on table.
“Nothing yet.”
Then I looked at silver emblem.
It had represented status to Veronica.
Evidence to police.
Authority to captain.
Threat to Adrian.
A key to records I did not even know existed.
To me, now?
A thing I nearly died holding.
I needed it to become less.
Not destroyed in dramatic fireplace.
Just archived.
I placed it in case with gala invitation and legal closure documents.
Then put case in long-term storage.
Not daily safe.
May you like
History.
Not identity.
